


Don't Push

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 11:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: The cold of the healing pod is like the chill of trying to wake up before dreams shift into nightmares, all phantom aches and hazy memory. When Hunk comes out of the pod, he expects to feel better than he does. Sure, he’s been healed of his wounds. But when Lance is there to greet him, Hunk learns that the one he dearly loves is walking the fine line of a waking nightmare more than he’s let on.





	Don't Push

**Author's Note:**

> One of three entries I did for the [Aphelion Zine](https://aphelionzine.tumblr.com/). I am very appreciative to the mods and my beta for making my participation in this zine possible. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

This is what limbo feels like, Hunk thinks, and it’s a place he really doesn’t like. The nebulous spot between awake and asleep, motionless but aware. It’s cold and full of dreams—memories? He’s not really certain anymore, but wherever he is, he’s thinking of Lance. 

_ “Cargo pilot,” Lance murmured, chin in his hand as he stared across the mess hall at nothing in particular. He hadn’t touched any of the food on his tray.  _

_ Hunk nudged him, a grin on his face. “It’s great, Lance! Congratulations!”  _

_ Lance sighed. “On what?” _

_ “You’re gonna be a pilot.” Hunk stated the obvious, confusion written on his face at the sound of Lance’s obvious disappointment. “That’s…what you wanted, isn’t it?” _

_ “Fighter pilot, Hunk. I wanted to be a fighter pilot, not a cargo pilot.” _

_ “Oh.” Hunk nibbled on a piece of bread thoughtfully. “It’s kinda better like this, don’t you think?” _

_ “How d’you figure that?” _

_ “Well, being a cargo pilot is a heck of a lot safer. And just think! Garrison cargo pilots are gonna ferry some pretty important stuff! Supplies to new planets we explore, maybe even medicines or crops from some alien world we’ve never been to.”  _

_ “That’s boring, Hunk,” Lance huffed. “Fighter pilots protect the world! They’re the first line of defense if we ever end up invaded, they’re heroes!” _

_ “You can be a hero without fighting or shooting at things, Lance.” _

_ “You’re not getting it.” _

_ “I guess I’m not.” Hunk stopped trying to figure it out and went back to eating his lunch, brow furrowed. He still couldn’t quite understand. Being a cargo pilot was at least better than being no pilot at all. But Lance had had his heart set on being fighter class ever since he set foot in the Garrison. Hunk was torn between being glad his best friend was assigned the safer alternative and wanting to hope that the chance to reach his goal was still attainable.  _

_ Just when he thought they’d have to part ways for their next classes in the same uncomfortable silence, Lance slid his arm into Hunk’s, laying his head on his shoulder. “Sorry, Hunk. You’re right, being a pilot is something I really wanted, and now look at me. I’ve got it! I’m gonna write home and tell Mama that I made it. Fighter class or cargo class, I’m still a pilot, and I’m gonna be the best damn cargo pilot the Garrison has ever seen.”  _

_ Hunk broke out into a relieved grin, tipping his head to rest his cheek against Lance’s hair. “Got that right. And by the time you’re flyin’ the sims, I’ll have some engineering under my belt and maybe we can partner up. We’ll get the best comm spec and we’ll be awesome.”  _

_ Lance straightened and started shoveling food into his face. Crisis averted, Hunk concluded, and finished his own lunch feeling much better.  _

Time passes in the not-black of slumber, a prickle of color spots behind his eyelids. Hunk is chasing consciousness like something always held just too far out of his reach. Light, familiarity, anything other than this in-between where he can’t tell what’s happening or why. At the back of his mind that sensation of  _ need-to-wake-up _ lingers like something he wants to run full speed to and yet get as far away from as possible. It’s reality, it’s the edge of a nightmare, it’s something he fears. He knows when he reaches it, he’ll also find Lance.

_ The Red and Yellow Lions leaped for the sky as explosions detonated around them, lighting up in their wake. If they’d executed their plan properly, the entire Galra factory base would soon be nothing more than a pile of rubble. Hunk sat uneasily in his cockpit, hands on the thrusters, but Yellow was already on course to break atmo so they could wormhole back to the ship. His palms were sweaty under his gloves, and he was quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time. _

_ “Lance,” he finally said, and Yellow responded by opening up a comm window so he could see Lance’s face.  _

_ “What is it, buddy? You’re not about to be sick, are you?” _

_ “No. I mean, I don’t think so.” Hunk certainly did feel nauseous, but for once it actually wasn’t from the sensation of being airborne. It was something that settled deeper into his bones, weighed on his conscious.  _

_ Lance leaned in a little, peering at him. His nose almost brushed up against his own comm screen. “What’s wrong then?” _

_ “Don’t… Do you feel guilty? Like at all?” he asked. If he could have seen the mess they’d left behind on that moon, he would have looked. But he could remember how it felt to place the explosives. He became even more unsettled. _

_ Lance huffed and flopped back in his seat. There was an edge to his voice when he replied, “I don’t have time to feel guilty. Neither do you.” _

_ That wasn’t exactly what Hunk wanted to hear, but Lance’s face was like stone, emotionless. Hunk wondered when Lance had learned to look like that–and when he had learned to act like that. It made him think that Lance was more of a soldier than he gave himself credit for. Definitely more of a solider than Hunk was. _

_ “I think...we should feel something, don’t you?” _

_ “I feel something, all right. I feel like the Galra spend too much time making life difficult for people that don’t deserve it. That’s the whole reason why we’re doing what we’re doing. To help people, to stop them from being assholes to the entire universe.” He didn’t even crack a single joke about a parade.  _

_ Hunk shrunk in a little more on himself. “Yeah, I know. I guess I just…sometimes it really gets me that we’re actually fighting a war. We get all wrapped up in saving aliens and flying giant robot cats, and you can almost forget that people die. We’ve—” _

_ “We’re about to wormhole, Hunk.” Lance’s voice was tight. “Get ready.” _

_ Sighing, Hunk switched off the comms and set Yellow’s course for the wormhole. _

_ When the Galra fleet came out of hyperspace to answer the distress call, they were too late to save the factory base. But not too late to deal some damage back in kind. _

~*~

Hunk finally wakes up, and it feels like falling. He hadn’t just been imagining the cold, he  _ is  _ cold, all the way down to his bones. The shivering begins immediately, and he’s trembling as he staggers forward. He’d been sleeping standing up, but now his legs won’t hold him. He flails.

“It’s okay, I gotcha, buddy.” 

Sure enough, something stops him from crumpling to the ground. Wiry arms hold him up, keeping him steady. Hunk breathes in; he knows the scent of Lance’s skin, faint traces of Altean lotion and soap. He relaxes, and his savior has to work a little harder at keeping him on his feet. 

“Lance,” he breathes.

“That’s right. You didn’t think I’d leave you in here all by yourself, did you?”

Hunk blinks away the hazy edges of blue-green from his vision, and he’s met with the eerily familiar surroundings of the cryo room. Suddenly all the cold and sleep make more sense than he cares to admit. He shudders, becoming keenly aware of the sticky bodysuit and phantom aches of wounds healed before they could ever become scars. He reaches back into his mind to grasp onto how he got here in the first place, all while Lance is lowering him to sit on the steps around the cryopod. Hunk reaches up to run a hand through his hair, wrinkling his nose at the oily, not-washed feel of it. For technology that was supposed to make someone feel as good as new, Hunk notes he honestly feels like crap. 

“What got me?” he finally asks.

“Fleet showed up right before we wormholed. You whacked your head on the console. Our lions are fine, but…” 

Hunk can’t see what Lance is seeing in his mind’s eye, but he knows it’s not pretty. He reaches up and rubs the spot where he thinks it might have happened, but it’s hard to tell after being in the pod. Lance watches every move he makes and doesn’t correct him. 

“Now I’m fine too,” he’s quick to reassure Lance. “See?” He pushes his hair back off his forehead, and Lance inspects it, even though they both know the wound is gone. Hunk wonders if the headache trying to form is from realizing he’s hungry or if his head still remembers what happened to it, even if it’s supposedly healed. Honestly, he’d hoped he’d never have to find out what it’s like to be in one of those pods. So much for that.

Lance’s face scrunches up, and he grasps Hunk by the shoulders, tucking his face into his neck. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

Hunk sighs and puts an arm around Lance, holding him close. The material of the suit makes a creaking noise, somewhere between leather and rubber, and Hunk thinks that can’t be very comfortable for Lance, but he’s not about to turn away the hug. They both need it. Hunk is still trying to piece together the last moments he can remember and coming up with Garrison shenanigans from his dreams. Really weird, those pods. No matter what, he can’t promise what Lance is asking, and they both know it. “I’ll do what I can,” is about the best he can manage at this point. 

Despite the chill in the room, and that godawful suit, the feel of Lance against him is familiar and comfortable. Hunk doesn’t mind lingering for as long as it’s going to take Lance to pull away. There’s something else hanging in the air, a feeling he can’t name, but it’s pulling down Lance’s shoulders, keeping him quiet. Hunk waits out the monster lurking underneath Lance’s forced-steady breathing. He turns his head, presses a kiss to Lance’s hair. “Talk to me, babe,” he murmurs.

Lance shudders. “I’m sorry for what I said back there. I didn’t mean it.”

“Hate to tell you, but I can’t even remember what hit me, so if you said something silly, don’t even worry about it.”

Hunk waits, hoping Lance will pull back with his carefree grin and a punch to the arm.    
A cocky remark should slip out about him getting away with something. But it doesn’t come. 

When Lance pulls back, his eyes are red but dry, like he wants to cry but just can’t make it happen. Now Hunk really knows it’s serious, and it’s about more than just the pod, more than just the attack where he hit his head. It’s down deeper than Lance has been letting him see, and that surprises Hunk, because they don’t really hide things from each other. That’s not their way. He reaches up, cups Lance’s face in both his hands, giving him his full attention. As soon as Hunk seeks out his gaze, Lance’s slides to the side. He looks miserable.

“You asked me if I felt guilty,” Lance mutters, wincing as if the words are too loud with just the two of them alone. “About blowing up the Galra. I told you that we didn’t have time to feel guilty about what we were doing.” 

Now the conversation comes back, and so does that gnawing feeling in his gut, but Hunk ignores it for the moment. 

“What I really meant is that I don’t want the time to feel guilty. Because you’re right, being a cargo pilot is way better than a fighter pilot. I got what I wanted, but now not only do I hurt people, but people I care about get hurt. Sometimes, I just start thinking about it, and then I can’t stop. When I do, it’s usually because we’re running off to another fight. I know we’re doing a good thing for the universe, but what’s it costing us to do this? Look at what happened to you. Look at what’s happened to Shiro and the Blade of Marmora and the Alteans. I don’t belong out here, Hunk, I—”

Hunk leans in to kiss Lance’s forehead, and the words choke off in Lance’s throat. “I’m really proud of you, Lance,” he says. 

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me, but I’ll say it again. I’m proud of you, babe. You would have made a great cargo pilot, but you really are one hell of a fighter pilot. You know why?”

Lance swallows hard, and he shakes his head in Hunk’s hands. 

“Because you care.”

A scoffing noise comes out of Lance’s mouth before he can stop it, and Hunk’s grip tightens ever so slightly to give him a focused little shake. “I mean it, Lance. Look at me.” Hunk waits. It takes too long for Lance to meet his gaze, but he finally does. “If you didn’t care, that’s when you wouldn’t belong out here. The universe needs people who can fight the Empire, but they also need people who care. You wanted to be a hero, and that’s not all glory and parades, you know that now.

Lance knows it’s futile to try and look away, but Hunk can’t help but softly stroke his cheekbones. 

“It’s gonna hurt, and you’re gonna feel guilty. I know as sure as I’m sittin’ here that we all feel guilty in one way or another. But not only did the Blue Lion choose you, so did Red, and they know better than anyone what it takes to be a Paladin. You’re flyin’  _ King Alfor’s _ lion, dude. He probably felt terrible about what happened to the Galra homeworld, about what happened to his best bud, but he still did the right thing, and he fought to do the right thing. Not to sound like all those cheesy movies you like, but that’s what a real hero is. That’s what veteran soldiers of the Garrison are, too: people who saw and did things that they hated for the sake of the right thing. It’s never gonna be perfect, and I don’t think it’s ever gonna feel good, but I’m proud of you. And no matter how guilty you feel, you’re not gonna push me away by being a jerk. If anything, I’m the one you can trust to be around at your worst.”

Lance’s face is wet under Hunk’s palms, and he pushes himself into Hunk’s arms again. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t have to. Hunk combs through his hair soothingly, feeling his own heart racing in his chest. He knows that guilt, too. The last thing he ever wanted out of all of this was to be a soldier, much less fight in a real war. But this is where they are now, and at least they have each other when they’re facing their demons.

“You know what I’m thinking?” Hunk asks, almost as if it’s to himself, but he definitely intends for Lance to hear.

A muffled sniff comes from somewhere near his shoulder. “What?”

“I’m thinking that I really don’t want to be by myself right now. Those pod things are really kinda creepy.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Lance says, pulling back. “It’ll be better once you’re out of that suit. It’s probably super bad for your skin.” He reaches up with one arm to scrub away the tears on his face with the sleeve of his jacket. “And you probably want the world’s hottest shower. I know I did. Food too, right? You hungry, big guy?”

“You askin’ me on a date?” Hunk teased, nuzzling at a blotchy cheek. “Of course I’m gonna say yes.”

Lance gets up and reaches down to help Hunk to his feet. He goes in for one last hug, and Hunk doesn’t deny him, liking the sure feel of Lance pressing as much of himself into contact with Hunk as possible. His arms are tight, strong, around him. He’s grown tougher and more solid than he’s giving himself credit for. Hunk sees it, even if Lance doesn’t. Maybe one day, deep down under all of his bravado, he’ll actually believe what Hunk told him. For now, it’s enough to know that some of the weight’s been pulled off Lance’s shoulders. Not a permanent fix, but definitely on the right track. 

Lance’s deep breath, released in a happy sigh, tells Hunk without words he’s loved. The way Hunk practically lifts Lance off the ground when he squeezes tight returns it right back. They’ll get through this, and Hunk is going to do everything he can to make sure they do it together.


End file.
